


no thoughts, head empty

by kitsudoki



Category: Kagerou Project, おそ松さん | Osomatsu-san (Anime)
Genre: F/M, mentions of shinaya, references to kagepro canon, theyre also the same age here in case anyone is bein a freak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:08:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22169143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsudoki/pseuds/kitsudoki
Summary: denial ain’t just a river in egypt; local degenerate loses extra bit of hope that he didn’t know he had
Relationships: Osomatsu Matsuno/Ayano Tateyama
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	no thoughts, head empty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [graphiteonwhite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/graphiteonwhite/gifts).



The way she pursed her lips when she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite formulate the words. The way her smile never quite reaches her eyes. The way she talks about her classmate with just a hint of red on her cheeks.

She apologized for bothering you with such annoyances, but you said it was nothing; your brothers have less interesting things to say anyways. (This is true.) She laughed at that, and you ignore that you feel like you won a million bucks, her laughter as bright as cascading coins. Instead, you nod when she says ‘At least you’re being honest.’ (This is not true.)

You’d never admit it, but for someone you’ve never met, this Shintaro guy pisses you off. He’s slimy. He’s gross. He’s an ass.  ~~ He’s in the way. ~~

You’ve known this, since you were seven, since you were eleven; since you were thirteen, since you were eighteen.

You love her.

… Okay, actually, ‘love’ might be too strong of a word here. But when she says your name, you cannot deny the way your heart soars. And when she sings his instead, you cannot deny the way it drops.

So you say nothing, show nothing, feel nothing. And you lose nothing in return. And when news of her death reaches you, the feelings you buried never see the light of day.

You find them in the bottom of a beer can instead, years after the fact. When you see her again— hazy, smiling, next to you— you know you’ve drank enough.

She never follows you home.


End file.
